Choosing a car model using only the letters and numbers displayed on a showroom wall may not provide sufficient differentiation. We want to understand the features and benefits of the models. More importantly, we want to map a point of confluence. Where do our needs and resources intersect with those of the available models?
If we want to intersect an orbiting planet, we will fail if we wait until it is closest to Earth and launch. We need to anticipate when the planet will reach the nadir of its orbit relative to Earth and then calculate how much time in advance we need to launch. The same is true for life. Savings funds are best started years in advance, not the week before a major purchase. Save-the-date announcements are sent months before a major ceremony. Architectural plans are drafted through iterations, beginning with broad concepts and moving towards construction and engineering details before building begins.
If the journey ahead is uncharted, we probably cannot plan today for tomorrow’s complete immersion. We need to aim for a point of confluence, where our vision and the future might intersect.
What is the castle that you occupy? Is it a structure, an idea, a way of being, access to certain rights, or a relationship?
How might we understand that we cannot govern all the terrain before us but contribute to a confluence? We can help those seeking input to navigate and succeed on their journey.
If we sell a car to an accountant, we might focus on the vehicle’s efficiency, cost per mile to operate, and return on investment. If we sell the car to a driving enthusiast, it may be better to concentrate on the driver experience, emotions of sitting in the car, and the story the driver can tell.
When we talk about our work with others, we do not need to sell to ourselves. Rather, it represents an opportunity to share a narrative with the audience that provides them with a chance to engage with the work. How might we find points of confluence that combine the listener’s story with our work? The authentic merging of two narratives allows another player to join the quest.
There are ambitious goals, and then there are plans that overcome our comprehension. If I told you I was going to thru-hike the Continental Divide Trail (Mexico to Canada), you might be able to fathom that feat. If you happen to live trail adjacent, you might even offer to assist me with food, a shower, or a place to stay. If I told you I was going to circumnavigate the globe on foot five times and I planned to walk past your house in five years, you might offer assistance but you may also kindly suggest we talk when the time gets closer. We can support what we can comprehend, but if overwhelmed, we do not know where to start.
The plans we share with our fans might be best if they are ambitious and daunting but relevant enough that our fans can find a point of confluence.
Reading United States’ mottos is a confluence of opinions and a group’s projection of themselves. Some of the mottos are aligned with our thoughts about a region, and others are further from our perception of reality. One of the ways we develop trust and authenticity is we state what we believe, and then we act in a manner that is compatible with the belief. If we can construct a simple equation that balances stated belief and action, we call individuals authentic. We might be willing to instill trust in them because of their authenticity.
Trail names are popular among thru and ultra hikers, a chance to assume a new identity or have a nickname bestowed on you by other hikers based on a personal characteristic. I met numerous hikers on the Colorado Trail last summer, and most I knew only by their trail name. These nicknames worked seamlessly in the wilderness but might need some explanation if shouted out in the middle of an airport terminal. A confluence point for all of us was that we shared a purpose and journey. Even an in-camp conversation with a hiker headed in the other direction provided a chance to exchange names, even though we would continuously move in opposite directions for the foreseeable future.
We bestow the equivalent of trail names on professional colleagues. Some nicknames are advanced affectionately, some have no known origin story, some represent a person’s flaws, and some names are self-appointed. They reflect a sense of connection and shared journey.
One of the ways to determine who is in your clan is to see who you know by nickname or title. We might be uncertain about how far our influence reaches. Those we know by nickname might be a good delineation. And if we should know somebody better, sharing our trail name might help find a point of connection.
I was riding my road bike on rollers inside our house the other night while watching a replay of a cross-country ski race from the 2015 World Championships. My workout was without any intensity, just spinning my legs. A unexpected anomaly became visible when I downloaded the data after the ride. At the 50-minute mark during my workout there was a spike in my heart rate (red) and a very slight uptick in my power output (purple). The minimal power increase did not equate to the strain being shown on the respiratory system. An elevated heart rate occurred in parallel with the last 4-minutes of the race coverage, an epic cardiovascular battle for nordic gladiators. As a ski racer myself I channeled the sensations, fatigue, and strategy. My body responded in kind even thought the event was recorded and the results known. I inserted myself into the scene without forethought.
My experience was an excellent illustration of why providing individuals a personal experience is necessary before a person can connect emotionally with a cause. If we invite a friend to a fundraising event and expect them to make a transformative contribution and yet they are disconnected to the cause then we may as well be asking a resident of an equatorial region to root fervently for men in lycra sliding on skinny sticks around a patch of frozen precipitation. Before we can invest our best we must find a point of confluence. It is not our friends job to channel some semi-related experience and overlay it on the enterprise we are so passionate about. It is our responsibility to facilitate connections or invite people who have already had a similar experience. If we are going to leverage our social capital then we must make it personal.
There is value in starting from where you are instead of trying to return for a clean piece of paper. Take Ruth Oosterman who uses her 2-year old’s sketches as the foundation for her finished work. Their collaboration is intriguing and arguably richer due to the individual visions finding a point of confluence. How can you create a more powerful vision starting from where you are today?
What-if-concepts 